


Toss

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22180219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Connor gets what’s his.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 85





	Toss

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Once, Hank told Connor—during a drunken stupor—that he looked like an angel when he slept. Connor assumed it was the alcohol affecting Hank’s brain, because Connor’s physical appearance doesn’t alter when he temporarily shuts down for the night, and he already knows Hank thinks he looks ‘goofy.’ _Hank_ certainly doesn’t look like an angel when he sleeps. His mouth tends to hang open, drooling down onto his pillow, and he snores uncomfortably loud. It’s a sign of respiratory issues that Connor keeps suggesting he see a doctor for. As usual, Hank doesn’t listen.

It at least comes in handy when Connor’s determining how deeply asleep Hank is. Curled up next to Hank in Hank’s large bed, Connor scans Hank’s face and takes in the little clues—the sonorous rumbling, the slackness of his jaw, the flitter of his eyes beneath his lids, which likely means that Hank’s in a state of REM sleep. Just in case, Connor murmurs, “Hank?”

Hank grunts, then keeps snoring. He doesn’t stir. Connor reaches beneath the blankets and presses his palm against Hank’s chest—Hank often complains his hands are too cold. Hank’s body temperature has simmered back down to a normal degree, after skyrocketing during lovemaking. Connor actually had to stop twice to make sure Hank wasn’t going to have a heart attack. 

He determines that Hank’s alright, and knowing that, Connor slips carefully out from under the blankets. He climbs to his feet, right next to the pile of his discarded clothes. He’d wanted to fold them after shedding them, but Hank wouldn’t let go of him long enough to do so. Connor doesn’t bother doing it yet. 

Instead, he pads softly across the room. Something stirs on the other side of the door, and Connor stiffens for a fraction of a second before determining that the sound has come from Sumo. Then Connor carries on to where Hank’s jacket is hung up in the open closet. 

He dips a hand into Hank’s pocket and withdraws the coin Hank took from him at the station. With a small, wholly illogical smile, Connor runs the coin through his fingers in the familiar trick—the one that first rattled Hank’s cage. Connor catches it in his palm and closes around it, glad to have it back. 

Hank grunts from the bed, “Please tell me you didn’t sleep with me just to get that damn coin back.”

Caught, Connor turns towards the bed, impressed by Hank’s powers of deduction even in the darkness—what little light pours in through the window from the streetlights and stars shouldn’t be enough to see much by human standards. He’s also impressed with Hank waking up just in time: a remarkable show of human instincts. 

Connor notes, “Of course not. I slept with you to increase our bond, so you wouldn’t confiscate any more of my things.”

Hank rolls his eyes. He waves his hand at Connor, as though to say it’s too late to put up with Connor’s sass. Connor can feel his own smile growing as Hank rolls over and snuggles deeper under the sheets. 

Satisfied with the outcome, Connor strolls back to replace the coin in his pocket and rejoin his lover in bed.


End file.
